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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444378">Doctor Who Drabbles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_crows/pseuds/void_crows'>void_crows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>Deutsch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_crows/pseuds/void_crows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Old Doctor Who drabbles<br/>Most of this is German lol</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleventh Doctor &amp; Amy Pond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Finally</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is from 2015 and part of a challenge a friend and I did. Basically I had to write something for the song "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode. It's a bit silly but that's Eleven for you.</p><p>Oh and also, it's in german. I don't know if there is a German ao3 fan base.</p><p>Song: https://youtu.be/aGSKrC7dGcY</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All I ever wanted,<br/>
All I ever needed,<br/>
Is here in my arms,<br/>
Words are very unnecessary,<br/>
They can only do harm </p><p>Der Doctor sagte nichts, atmete nur tief ein und aus. Er wartete ein paar Augenblicke, als er zu <i>ihm</i> schritt. Es war komplett still, weder der Doctor noch einer der anderen Personen im Raum sagte etwas. Wörter hätten alles nur zerstört.<br/>
"Hmm, also er gefällt Ihnen?", fragte Amy und grinste.<br/>
Sofort drehte sich der Doctor um, legte einen Finger auf seine Lippen und machte "Shhhh!"<br/>
Amys Lächeln verschwand sofort und jetzt sah sie den Doctor schief an. "Echt jetzt?"<br/>
"Ja echt!", zischte der Doctor und drehte sich wieder zu <i>ihm</i>.<br/>
Amy seufzte. "Vielleicht hätte ich ihn Ihnen doch nicht zeigen sollen."<br/>
Doch der Doctor hörte das nicht mehr. Alles klang dumpf und abgeschirmt, als er <i>ihn</i> von der Nähe sah. Tränen traten in seine Augen. Langsam hob er ihn auf und nahm ihn in den Arm. Da wusste der Doctor es. Alles was er je wollte - NEIN! - alles was er je <i>brauchte</i>, lag in seinen Armen. Er fühlte vollkommene Befreiung. Er wollte sich bei Amy bedanken, doch er brachte kein Wort heraus. Nur ein krächzendes "Wieso?" drang aus seiner Kehle.<br/>
"Nachdem River den alten Fes zerstört hatte, hab ich mir gedacht, ich könnte Ihnen eine Freude mit einem neuen machen." Erneut seufzte sie. "Ich seh schon, ich hätte es nicht tun sollen."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Erdbeeren</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is from 2019 I think<br/>Eleven and Amy get some strawberries</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Und hast du sein Gesicht gesehen??“</p><p>Der Doctor trat nach seiner Begleiterin durch die Tür, schloss sie schnell und stellte die Tasche, die er bis jetzt um seine Schulter geschlungen hatte, an der Tardis-Konsole ab. „Oh, ja, hab ich. Der hat mich angesehen, also wolle er mich durch die halbe Galaxie jagen.“ Er drückte ein paar Knöpfe und betätigte Hebel.</p><p>„Oh, ja.“ Amy stützte sich keuchend an der Konsole ab. „Diese Weltraumerdbeeren müssen’s jetzt wirklich draufhaben.“</p><p>„Es sind.. es sind keine..“ Die Geräusche einer anhebenden Tardis erfüllten den Raum. „Okay, gut. Es sind Weltraumerdbeeren. Was auch immer.“ Er schaute Amy leicht schräg an. „Und für diese Erdbeeren haben wir gute zwölf intergalaktische Felder zerstören müssen.“</p><p>„Dafür war’s auch lustig.“</p><p>„Guter Punkt.“ Der Doctor hob den Sack, den er zuvor auf den Boden gestellt hatte, auf. Er öffnete ihn und hunderte kleine Erdbeerförmige, violette Kugeln rollten auf die Konsole. „Das ist... eine ganze Menge.“</p><p>„Japp.“ Noch immer keuchend schnappte Amy sich eine kleine Erdbeere und steckte sie sich in den Mund. „Hast du was zum Trinken oder so?“</p><p>Der Doctor bückte sich kurz, holte unter der Konsole eine Wasserflasche hervor und warf sie Amy entgegen.</p><p>„Danke.“ Die Schottin fing die Flasche erfolgreich. „Ist da unten sowas wie ein Vorratskeller?“</p><p>„Mehr wie ein Kühlschrank“, entgegnete der Doctor und entfernte sich schnell in Richtung Küche. Nach einer kurzen Zeit, welche Amy mit dem weiteren Konsumieren von Erdbeeren verbracht hatte, kam der Doctor mit mehreren großen und ein paar kleineren Schüsseln zurück. Er begann dann den Rest des Inhaltes, welcher sich noch nicht bereits auf seiner Konsole ausgebreitet hatte, in die Schalen zu leeren. Als er mit dem Sack fertig war, begriff er wie viel sie von dem Zeug mit an Board gebracht hatten. „Was sollen wir mit all dem machen?“, rief er entgeistert und deutete auf die Häufen von Kugeln, die sich vor ihm aufgetan hatten.</p><p>„... Essen?“</p><p>„Aber sieh dir das doch an!“ Er fuchtelte wild vor sich herum. „Das können wir doch niemals alles essen! Weißt du überhaupt wie kalorienhaft die sind? Nein nein nein, all das wäre viel zu viel für uns beide. Ich könnte es spenden gehen, oder so. Oder vielleicht doch nur in der Lagerungshalle unterbringen. Falls da noch Platz ist, letztes Mal als ich nachgeschaut habe, war noch alles voll mit Krokodilen.“ Und schon war er wieder Richtung Gang, wahrscheinlich wieder zur Küche oder zu der Lagerungshalle, von der er gesprochen hatte.</p><p>Seufzend nahm Amy eine Handvoll der Weltraumerdbeeren aus dem Sack und gab sie in eine der kleinen Schüsseln (natürlich nicht ohne etwa ein Dutzend auf dem Boden zu verteilen).  Dann blinkte sie sich kurz um, überlegte wo sie sich am besten hinsetzen könnte und entschied sich schließlich für die Tür. Als sie sie öffnete, blinzelte ihr ein Meer von Sternen entgegen. </p><p>Sie nahm an der Schwelle Platz, ließ ihre Beine baumeln und war dankbar für das Luftfeld, welches die Tardis um sie errichtet hatte, sobald sie die Tür öffnete. Während sie in die Tiefe des Weltalls starrte und den Ausblick genoss, griff sie immer wieder in die Schale, um sich bei dem Erdbeeren zu bedienen. </p><p>Vielleicht war Reisen mit einem Alien doch gar nicht so schlimm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Letting Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is english??? coolio</p><p>the context for this is... what if each incarnation of the Doctor didn’t disappear after regenerating? but rather continued to live as a „new“ person somewhere else?</p><p>yeah I dunno either</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Doctor, I let you go.“ </p><p>Regeneration is not easy. You become wounded, go through so much physical and emotional pain, just to turn into a completely new man afterwards. Or woman. It’s a lottery, honestly. It’s not a comfortable process either. It may look like rebirth to onlookers, like getting a new body in exchange for cheating death. It’s much more painful than that. <br/>The first condition for regeneration is being wounded so badly that one would die if not being offered the possibility of literal rebirth. Once wounded, the pain infected equals torments of hell. It’s called a deadly wound, after all. If that wasn’t enough, the actual process of regeneration forces every cell in one’s body to change into something new. This transformation is even more painful than the actual cause of death. Imagining all of your cells changing into something different - yeah no fun.<br/>The second big condition for regeneration is, of course, being able to let the current incarnation of oneself go. That’s where the emotional pain comes in. </p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stood in the Tardis, his Tardis, his body glowing and vibrating with anticipation. He’d done this many times before, yet every time it was hard. He’d gotten used to the pain, of course. He was over 2000 years old now, there was hardly any kind of pain left that he hadn’t had the honour to experience. It was more like this strange feeling of dissociation, almost if his mind was trying to escape his body, detaching itself from it completely. It was a terrifying and strange experience. He never felt like truly himself any more. Something had shifted in his vision, a part of him was desperately trying to cling himself to this body. Or was it the other way round? <br/>He wasn’t going to make it like that. He knew that since the moment he stepped into the Tardis. Eventually, he had to let it go, to let this grasping part of himself slip away. </p><p>He took one last glance at his beautiful Tardis. <br/>Time to let all of this go. With a deep breath he let the regeneration wash over him, painful light filling every part of his body, changing every cell and every part of him into something. It hurt like hell but that was fine. Slowly, a feeling of replacement began to took a hold of him, spreading everywhere and becoming stronger and stronger, until...</p><p>He gasped.</p><p>Bright light filled his vision, way too bright than for him to be able to make anything out. He blinked. He blinked again. Shapes of something began to form, and new sounds filled his ears. Dizziness overtook him.<br/>He tried to grab the Tardis control but it seemed out of place and he wasn’t able to get a hold of it. Desperately he grasped the air, trying to get anything. After no success he closed his eyes and hoped the dizziness would go away.<br/>Something was not right. His head began to pound. It was unusually hot and at this point sweat was dripping off his hands. He began to feel sick. This was not good. Definitely shouldn’t be happening.<br/>He tried to open his eyes but yet again was blinded so he held up his hand to shield his eyes. Above him was clear blue sky with absolutely no clouds in it. Was the Tardis able to project this image? He wasn’t sure. Still didn’t seem normal, especially considering the other aspects of his situation.<br/>Rubbing his face with both of his hands, he took a deep breath. The air was fresh, a nice spring afternoon. He could hear the sounds of water splashing in what he assumed was a fountain. There was also some occasional chattering of birds. All in all, pretty peaceful. </p><p>He was not sure if regeneration was supposed to be this peaceful. Maybe he had died? Maybe his wish to rest had finally be fulfilled and now he was at some sort of afterlife. He shook his head. </p><p>His eyes opened and he saw that he was standing in what apparently was a large yard. In the centre of it was a white fountain, pods filled with flowers were standing alongside the edges. He moved to one of the pods and took a flower. He wasn’t sort what kind of flower it was, but it was pretty. Once he put it back in its pod, he began to explore the place more. There was a small but comfortable looking house attached to the yard. </p><p>On a pedestal standing besides a wall of the house was a big book. It seemed to be very old and he wasn’t sure somebody would just have this old book lying in the outside like that. He opened it and dust blew into his face.</p><p>The book was full of different thing, long texts and sketches of obscure figures. All of it was hand written and hand drawn and he could make out twelve different handwritings which all seemed familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place them. He took his time skipping through the book and once he was finished he closed it and quietly stared at it. It wasn’t even half full. Turning around, he frowned. How did he even get here in the first place? Surely, this was somebody’s home and he was an intruder not welcome here. Probably? He couldn’t know the person this house belonged to, right? Maybe he should knock on the front door and apologise to the person living here? And also ask how he got here in the first place. </p><p>He found his way to the front yard and looked at the house. It was nice. Lots of flowers everywhere. The small path leading to the front door was paved with pebbles. A few trees were placed around the structure, and a bird house was hanging from one of them. Besides the door was post box with a name printed on it. </p><p>“John Smith” </p><p>Something in his head began to hurt, a lot. He groaned. For some reason his body reacted to the name. It wasn’t until now that he realised he wasn’t able to remember his own name.</p><p>He knocked. Nothing. <br/>He knocked again. Still nothing.</p><p>Something about this name hit his body like a punch in the guts. <br/>He was not sure how he got here. He also was not sure what he was doing before this. He wasn’t even sure what his own name was or who he was.</p><p>The more he thought about it, the more suspected that he had been hit on the head. Maybe by a stone that rolled off the roof? There was literally no other way to explain this memory loss.</p><p>He got a sudden idea and his hands went straight to the pockets of his coat. There! A key ring with lots of different keys and a key chain in the form of a small blue box attached to it. He tried one of the keys. It fit! Slowly he opened the door.</p><p>As he stepped in, a wave of memories hit him. A thousand different times of stepping through that door, sometimes exhausted after a long work day, other times joyful after having bought new seeds for his plants. That was right. He was a hobby gardener. And a professor in the local university. How could he have possibly forgotten that?</p><p>He quickly went into the living room and sat down in his favourite chair as memories threatened to overwhelm him. Now that all of these beloved and precious moments were coming back to him, he couldn’t believe he was ever able to forget them. Of course, not all of his memories were happy. Just like every life his was also filled with the painful loss of dear ones. But that was part of existence and he’d lived quite a happy and peaceful life.</p><p>It was almost like the entire memory accident didn’t happen. His memories were back in their place and he was the man he’d been before. But everything about this still bugged him. How could this have happened? Why didn’t he have some kind of injury if he’d been hit by the head?</p><p>Thinking about all of this he also realised that he didn’t know anything about the mysterious book in his garden. He waited a few minutes before he got up again because he still felt dizzy. When he rushed into the garden - now so familiar - he took the book and went back inside the house again.</p><p>He’d never seen that book in his life before. </p><p>How did this get here? And how was it connected to his memory loss? Maybe some short time memory was still missing? That sounded like the only logical explanation.</p><p>He flipped through the book again. All seemed to tell vague stories of mysterious incidents, strange creatures or wonderful places. Often beautifully illustrated, his head started to pound and he felt like he had seen some of these things before. But they were impossible beings, not from this world.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>He took a careful look at the last still written passage, the twelfth handwriting. Something seemed different about this one. The creatures and stories were a lot more detailed, and the author occasionally dropped a name that made his head even hurt more. The Doctor. </p><p>When he got the last written page, something inside of him urged him to write in the book as well, like a hidden instinct. He couldn’t think of a thing to write tho. His mind still seemed like a blank page, even after he had recovered his memories.</p><p>There were so many empty pages in the book.</p><p>With a sigh he closed the book. He still felt dizzy, but also something else. Unsure. Vulnerable. Like a newborn child. Young. Different than he had ever felt before. It’s like someone turned a switch in his brain.</p><p>He leaned back in his chair. Maybe after a nap his mind would feel more like it still belonged to him.</p>
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